These Foolish Thoughts
by SandsOfDorne
Summary: Draco, the boy who seemingly has everything, is haunted by the thoughts of a certain Hermione Granger. This story take place during the Christmas Break of Draco's third year at Hogwarts. This is a one-shot story. I do not own Harry Potter. Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling.


"Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up." –Neil Gaiman (_Sandman, Vol. 9, The Kindly Ones_)

It had been a day of presents, feasting, and laughter, the latter being an extreme rarity in the Malfoy household, especially of the joyful sort without any sinister undertones. The extended family and select others spent the day enjoying the Christmas holiday with Draco and his parents. But despite this one day in which his life felt normal, there was one thought that continued to preoccupy his mind:

A girl.

Draco lied awake in his bed, unable to fall asleep. His room was dark, save for the light from the night sky pouring in through his windows. He felt empty and alone here. At the moment his only company was his latest assortment of Christmas presents and his thoughts. His thoughts. Oh, how we wish he could stop thinking right now, but he could not. How strange it was that out of all the things that would haunt Draco throughout the day it would be Hermione Granger of all things. The plain faced girl with the bucked teeth, always studying and always with that lowly Weasley boy and Potter. How Draco loathed the lot of them. He never understood the likability of any of them. There was no appeal. Granger was a mudblood, Weasley was, well, a Weasley, and Potter always seemed exhort an unhealthy arrogance.

But there was something admirable about this trio. There was a love and loyalty between them. Yes, they quarreled at times, but at the end of the day, they were truly there for each other. They were truly friends. Draco had friends, sure, but at times he wondered why they were his friends to begin with? What if his name was not Malfoy? How many would stand beside him then?

The thought of the plain faced girl kept crawling into his mind. Draco fought it off all day. It puzzled him why her image and her voice kept haunting him throughout the day. There were various moments where Draco had wondered what would Hermione think of this situation or this moment? How would this mudblood navigate this room of purebloods? She was a clever girl however. Draco knew this. If Hermione had hypothetically been there, almost no one would suspect she were a mudblood. She had a deep knowledge of the wizarding world, all learned in such a brief window of time. Incredible. There had also been moments when it was simply thought of being in her presence; holding her hand, watching her smile, or seeing her laugh. These little instances plagued his mind throughout what should have been a joyous day. It had been Christmas after all.

Draco finally had enough of it. He had enough of lying there and being tormented by these pathetic thoughts. He had enough of thinking about her. Draco turned and got out of his bed. The old wooden floors creaked beneath his stocking feet and they continued to do so as he made his way out into the hall. There was a cabinet on the other end where Draco's parents kept some potions. Hopefully, a good sleeping drought would be among them. The hall was silent except for the floors, obviously. Thankfully there were no portraits on this part of the floor, so he would not have to worry about being stealthy or considerate. Nobody liked a grumpy portrait.

Draco finally made his way to the cabinet. He fumbled through it for a few moments before finding the sleeping drought. He closed the cabinet and went off back to his room with the potion. As he was about to go back into his bed, Draco noticed that it was snowing outside. The flakes fell gently. He walked over to the window and could see the snow had already started to build up on the garden.

"_She would like this, wouldn't she?"_ Draco thought to himself. The instant the thought came to him, Draco wanted to slap himself silly.

"Don't be stupid, you idiot," Draco said to himself. "She's a filthy, insufferable, little mudblood. What would father think if you ever brought Granger here with you? He'd be appalled! You would be ridiculed. And what if it ever went further? You would be an outcast!"

Draco hated the thoughts he had about Hermione; the thought of holding her hand at dinner, the thought of cuddling by the fireplace and snogging, the thought of dancing with her beneath the snow and moonlight. All these things he did not to feel or think about. It was impossible. Purebloods did not mix around with Muggle borns, unless you were foolish like the bloody Weasley clan. These foolish thoughts angered him. Even if he truly wanted them to come true, there would be no possibility they would. Lucius would never allow it. Imagine the horror of his only child continuing their line with a Muggle born!

Instead of annoyed, Draco now felt angry and upset. He hated this conflicting feeling inside. On one hand, there was a burning desire to be with Granger, but on the other he knew this all went against everything he and his family stood for. Oh, how he loathed this girl, but at the same time, deep down, Draco knew he loved her. If only things could be different. If only he did not care so much about blood purity. If only Hermione were pueblooded. But these things could not be. For the boy that had everything, there would be one thing in which he could never have.

Draco crawled back into bed and opened the bottle of the sleeping drought. He took a quick gulp and set the bottle on the night stand. Within a few moments, Draco's mind drifted away for several hours from this world into a place where it was safe to be with Hermione; his dreams.


End file.
